


It's a Date

by AShortWalkToDelinquency



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Developing Relationship, Feelings Realization, Fluff, M/M, Requited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28735962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AShortWalkToDelinquency/pseuds/AShortWalkToDelinquency
Summary: It hits, completely out of the blue, on an uneventful Thursday afternoon as Malcolm is idly flipping through their latest case file.He's tired of being alone.And especially tired of pretending he doesn't feel what he feels.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	It's a Date

**Author's Note:**

> So... I have mixed feelings about the season two premiere. To ignore them (because that's what we do with feelings, yes?) I went back and finished this little ficlet that I started a couple months back. Because I would have liked _this_ to have been how things went down a few months after Gil's return ❤

It hits, completely out of the blue, on an uneventful Thursday afternoon as Malcolm is idly flipping through their latest case file.

He's tired of being alone.

And especially tired of pretending he doesn't feel what he feels.

The file slips from his fingers, papers fluttering to the ground without another thought. He's heard of an 'aha moment' before, but never thought he'd experience one quite like this. It's like he's been living in a perpetual twilight all these years and the sun just finally broke free of the horizon, lighting up his entire world.

He nearly forgets how to breathe.

"Bro, you good?" JT looks up at him from where he's seated at the conference table, _concerned_ and _annoyed_ battling for supremacy on his face with no clear winner between the two in sight.

Malcolm's head shoots up at the question and he realizes he'd frozen mid-step in his leisurely pacing, the file folder falling to the floor with a muted thud. He isn't sure if it was the sound or his sudden stillness that drew JT's attention, but either way, the man's inquiring gaze is on him now.

"I'm…" Malcolm's words trail off as he really, truly considers the question. "Oh. I'm great. Amazing. Never been better."

JT leans back in his chair and eyes Malcolm speculatively, muscular arms crossed over his chest. 

He can feel the man's gaze boring into him but he doesn't even care.

Because Malcolm has a plan.

Well, not so much a plan, really. A plan involves more than one step. But he knows exactly what he needs to do. He turns on his heel and heads to the door without another word, leaving a confused and speechless JT in his wake. 

In a matter of seconds, he's standing in front of Gil's door, looking at the nameplate.

_Gil Arroyo. C.O. Detective Squad._

Malcolm smiles to himself and raps lightly on the door, pushing it open before Gil even has a chance to call out for him to enter.

Gil is seated at his desk, a stack of files in front of him requiring review and sign-off like so many of the other papers in his inbox. He looks just a little worn down (he always does when trapped under mounds of paper — the man was never meant to be a desk jockey, but moving up the ranks involved more and more time in the office, and Gil had long since come to accept that).

"Hey kid, what's up?" Gil says, smiling up at Malcolm in a way that makes him weak in the knees.

"Do you have a minute?" Malcolm asks while standing in the doorway. This is important — possibly the most important thing he'll ever do — but he doesn't want to interrupt if Gil is in the middle of something urgent.

"Honestly, I'd appreciate the break." Gil's eyes crinkle up the way they always do when he's genuinely happy to see Malcolm, and Malcolm's stomach does an eloquent routine of backflips and somersaults worthy of an Olympic gold medal.

He takes a step in and closes the door behind him, _knowing_ that his life is about to change forever.

He's surprisingly okay with that.

Gil's already arching an eyebrow at him when he turns back around, but Malcolm merely tugs down the front of his jacket and takes the handful of steps to the chairs in front of Gil's desk, seating himself and looking Gil directly in the eye, not wanting to waste another moment.

"I think we should start dating," Malcolm says, internally high-fiving himself for just how calm and composed his voice sounds. It's not like he has any doubts about this — he's quite literally never been more sure about anything in his life — but there's a nervous excitement pumping through his veins that feels a lot like the thrill of catching a killer. It's exhilarating. At the flash of confusion on Gil's face, though, Malcolm hurries to add, "Each other." 

"You think that we should…"

"Start dating each other. Yes," Malcolm finishes the sentence that Gil leaves hanging. "So here's the thing." 

Malcolm's hands start moving, floating through the air in the same way they have a tendency to do when he's delivering a profile. He's aware it's maybe a little inappropriate, but, short of sitting on them, he's not sure that there's any way to still the movement. All he can do is ignore the motion and hope that Gil will do the same as Malcolm pushes on. 

"I like you. A lot. No, you know what? I love you. I've been in love with you for a good long while now. And the thing is, I think you feel something towards me, too."

Gil's jaw is hanging slack at this point, his eyes wide and unblinking, looking the epitome of stunned, so Malcolm uses the opportunity to press on.

"I've noticed that your gaze often lands on me when I walk into a room, and lingers far longer that can reasonably be explained by anything aside from a deep attraction. You've also been initiating physical contact lately with a greater frequency than you usually do; simple touches, such as a hand on the shoulder or the back of my neck, but with a tenderness that can only come from a profound affection. That's not to mention your body's autonomic reactions to me, such as the way your pupils dilate when we get close or how your skin occasionally flushes when you let your mind wander about things you'd maybe like to do with me. _To_ me."

Gil is suddenly blinking rapidly, a small but insistent shake of his head — entirely reflexive and Malcolm would bet money that he doesn't even know he's doing it — letting Malcolm know that he's about to deny everything.

The thing is, Malcolm gets it. He does. Up until less than five minutes ago he would have done the same thing if he'd been cornered and asked about his attraction to the older man. He's been denying how he feels for years now, pushing the thoughts away as improper or fruitless — either case being entirely unlikely to lead to anything romantic between them.

But now…

Now he wonders if he's been wrong all along.

So he beats Gil to the punch, voicing the thousands of concerns that he knows must be flooding the man's mind in an attempt to assuage them before they have a chance to become fully formed.

"Look, I get it. It's complicated," Malcolm says, hands open in an expression of understanding, "How we met, the relationship we had while I was growing up, even the matter of our working relationship now; these are all very real concerns and I understand your hesitation."

"You...wait. What?" Gil says, scrubbing a hand over his face in an effort to get himself back in control — whether of his emotions or the conversation, Bright isn't entirely sure.

"But here's the thing," Malcolm says simply. "I just don't care anymore."

Wide-eyed and silent, Gil looks completely bewildered. Malcolm can‘t really blame him. The conversation isn't exactly playing out how he'd imagined in the approximately six seconds he had between deciding to talk to Gil and actually standing in front of the man himself.

Perhaps he should have planned this a little better.

 _Oh well_ , he thinks to himself, _too late now._

"After everything that happened —with Ainsley and Endicott, with Eve," Malcolm swallows around the lump that forms in his throat before he can force out the words, "with you nearly dying—"

Gil's expression softens at the pain in Malcolm's voice. It's only been a few months since everything happened and the wounds — literal and figurative — are all still a little raw. The idea of losing Gil was nearly too much for Malcolm to handle and Gil seemed to understand that, making sure to spend extra time with him the moment he was released from the hospital. 

Malcolm will never be able to express just how much that meant to him.

"I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore, Gil." 

It seems so damn simple when it's boiled down like that. He wants Gil. He wants a chance to be happy. He wants a chance to make _Gil_ happy. Because he thinks he could if the man would just give him a chance.

"I think we could make each other happy. And I want that," Malcolm explains with a self-conscious shrug. "And you make me feel like maybe I deserve that. Which, I'll be honest, is an entirely new feeling for me."

He didn't mean to say that. It just sort of...slipped out. Not that it's untrue. But the last thing he wants is to guilt Gil into anything. He wants Gil to make an informed and conscientious decision based on his feelings alone, not based on some sort of misplaced desire to protect Malcolm.

"Kid," Gil says softly, and Malcolm braces himself for the gentle letdown that's likely coming his way, sure he's just fumbled his only chance at developing their relationship into something more. He's completely taken by surprise, therefore, when Gil says, "You're right."

"I'm sorry, what?" Malcolm asks, unsure if he's just heard that correctly.

"You're right. It's complicated. And things could get messy. But," Gil huffs out a breath and brings his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he continues, "Yeah, kid. God help me, I have feelings for you, too."

A slow smile spreads over Malcolm's face as a warmth grows inside of him, and suddenly Gil is smiling (timidly, Malcolm notes, but genuine) back at him in a way that makes his stomach and his heart and maybe even a few other things inside of him flutter wildly.

"I, uh," Malcolm stumbles over his words. He's not really sure what to say. He hadn't exactly thought any further ahead than telling Gil how he felt and perhaps itemizing the reasons why it _isn't_ a terrible idea for them to date. He hadn't actually considered the fact that Gil might say yes. "So. Is that a yes? To the whole dating thing?"

"Yeah. That's a yes," Gil's smile tips a little bit sideways, like he can't quite believe where this conversation — and their relationship — is heading, and it's so damn adorable that Malcolm can barely contain himself from leaning over the desk and kissing it from his face.

And the thought that, maybe, one day, he might just be allowed to do that makes Malcolm flush, a heat that spreads through his cheeks and down beneath his collar. 

Gil notices (of course he notices) and his smile turns knowing, and Malcolm doesn't doubt that he has at least a vague idea of what Malcolm is thinking.

And he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest.

"Right. Great," Malcolm beams and claps his hands together. "So. That's settled then."

Gil leans back in his chair, his hands linked together over his (surprisingly taut) abdomen as he studies Malcolm, a glimmer in his eye and a softness in his features that sparks a delightful little shiver down Malcolm's spine.

"What did you have in mind for this date?" Gil asks innocently.

Well. 

Malcolm _really_ hadn't thought that far ahead at all, and Gil knows it. But he's fast on his feet and has the added advantage of knowing what Gil enjoys.

"Um. Well. I was thinking maybe dinner? At Peter Luger?" Malcolm asks. He knows Gil's never been able to say no to a nice steak and he's more than happy to use the Milton name and money to secure a last minute reservation, if necessary. "And perhaps a movie afterwards? Or drinks?"

Honestly, Malcolm would be happy sitting on a bench in the park eating hotdogs from a street vendor if it means he gets to be with Gil. On a date.

(An actual date!)

That goofy smile is back on Malcolm's face and he can't seem to wipe it away.

"That sounds great, kid," Gil says, leaning forward in his chair and planting his forearms on his desk. It's a good reminder for both of them that they're on the clock and can continue this conversation over dinner. On their date. "When were you thinking?"

"Tonight?" Malcolm says and then hurries to backtrack at Gil's raised eyebrows, "Or not. I mean, you probably have plans. I'm available whenever works best for you. You name the time, and I'll be there."

"Tonight sounds perfect," Gil chuckles quietly. "Just surprised you'd be able to manage a reservation, is all."

"Okay then. Tonight. Eight-ish?" Malcolm asks as he pushes to his feet and smoothes his suit down with hands that are trembling just a little, but for an entirely different reason than usual.

"Sounds perfect," Gil says and picks his pen back up, scratching out his signature on the top piece of paper on the stack in front of him. Malcolm would swear there's a bit of an extra flourish in the G and the Y. "I'll swing by and pick you up around 7:30?"

"It's a date," Malcolm grins.

"Yeah," Gil responds softly as Malcolm heads to the door, "it is."

As he walks back to the conference room, Malcolm knows he's going to have a tough time remaining focused for the rest of the day, but vows to try his best. They have a murderer to catch, after all.

"You good?" JT's voice pulls him from his thoughts once again. The detective is looking at him like he's trying to solve a complicated puzzle but half of the pieces are missing. Malcolm shrugs it off and smiles.

"Perfect."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to KateSamantha for the beta!


End file.
